xasperated his jailer, spoke first by putting the question,--

"Well, what do you want, after all?"

"I'll tell you what I want," answered Gryphus; "I want you to restore to
me my daughter Rosa."

"Your daughter?" cried Van Baerle.

"Yes, my daughter Rosa, whom you have taken from me by your devilish
magic. Now, will you tell me where she is?"

And the attitude of Gryphus became more and more threatening.

"Rosa is not at Loewestein?" cried Cornelius.

"You know well she is not. Once more, will you restore her to me?"

"I see," said Cornelius, "this is a trap you are laying for me."

"Now, for the last time, will you tell me where my daughter is?"

"Guess it, you rogue, if you don't know it."

"Only wait, only wait," growled Gryphus, white with rage, and with
quivering lips, as his brain began to turn. "Ah, you will not tell me
anything? Well, I'll unlock your teeth!"

He advanced a step towards Cornelius, and said, showing him the weapon
which he held in his hands,--

"Do you see this knife? Well, I have killed more than fifty black cocks
with it, and I vow I'll kill their master, the devil, as well as them."

"But, you blockhead," said Cornelius, "will you really kill me?"

"I shall open your heart to see in it the place where you hide my
daughter."

Saying this, Gryphus in his frenzy rushed towards Cornelius, who had
barely time to retreat behind his table to avoid the first thrust; but
as Gryphus continued, with horrid threats, to brandish his huge knife,
and as, although out of the reach of his weapon, yet, as long as it
remained in the madman's hand, the ruffian might fling it at him,
Cornelius lost no time, and availing himself of the stick, which he held
tight under his arm, dealt the jailer a vigorous blow on the wrist of
that hand which held the knife.

The knife fell to the ground, and Cornelius put his foot on it.

Then, as Gryphus seemed bent upon engaging in a struggle which the pain
in his wrist, and shame for having allowed himself to be disarmed, would
have made desperate, Cornelius took a decisive step, belaboring his
jailer with the most heroic self-possession, and selecting the exact
spot for every blow of the terrible cudgel.

It was not long before Gryphus begged for mercy. But before begging for
mercy, he had lustily roared for help, and his cries had roused all the
functionaries of the prison. Two turnkeys, an inspector, and three or
four guards, made their appearance all at